Matters of Interest
by darling-gypsum
Summary: Friendly faces are in short supply for the crew of Serenity as they drift through the Black as fugitives from the law. With their future uncertain, Inara finds solace in a man from her past, and Mal struggles with his new competition. (Mal/Inara/OC character, fluff, humor, mild smut, jealousy, & just a dash of angst) [set between "Serenity" and the "Leaves on the Wind" comic]
1. A Quick Pick-Me-Up

_(revamped and updated version)_

_Humor, fluff, mild smut, jealousy, &amp; just a dash of angst. Enjoy! _

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**A Quick Pick-Me-Up**

_Be not afraid of growing slowly, be afraid only of standing still._

Inara ran a delicate fingertip along the hànzì symbols etched into her cast iron tea cup. In the heart of _Serenity_, the galley stood silent and empty as she watched patterns in the rising steam of the kettle. Heat from the stove and the boiling water filled the room, and her eyes drifted closed. She hadn't slept well for some time.

"You drink anymore tea, you're gonna start sweatin' the stuff." She could hear the smile on Mal's voice. "Not that you sweat, of course."

She turned and found Mal close enough to feel his body warmth. He'd cornered her against the stove in his reacquired hobby of pushing the limits of her comfort. "Funny," she said. She kept her breathing shallow, avoiding the familiar scent of him.

The tea kettle began to whistle, and she slipped past him. "I didn't realize you'd stayed on board," she said. Inara grabbed the kettle, protecting her hand with a towel.

"Gotta catch up on my beauty sleep," Mal smirked. "Being shot and all ain't an excuse to neglect the needs of my admirers." He stepped closer to her as she began to pour the boiling water.

She backed off from him, the hot kettle rocking in her grip. "What are you-" Mal reached past her and grabbed her satchel of loose tea off the counter. He dunked it into her tea, swirling it around some. His eyes narrowed on the task.

Looking up, he offered her a smile. "No clients?"

She stiffened a bit at the question. "Not that it's your business," she sighed, "But no. Things are quiet this far out." She gently pushed him aside with her hip, taking the cup and tea satchel's ribbon from him. "I've got it, thank you."

Mal gave her a smile, barely showing teeth, and obediently stepped back to give her room. She could feel him watching her. "You're welcome," he said.

She slid down the counter, still steeping the bag of loose leaves. She heard a rumbling breath from Mal. He came up behind her yet again, peeking over her shoulder at the tea. "Smells good."

"There's enough for two steepings." She pressed the teabag between two spoons and turned to offer it.

He took it, and she began to blow lightly on her own tea. "I was hoping to share," he said.

She glared at him over the edge of her cup. "You can pour your own."

"Not very generous to the very man who took two bullets for you," Mal said. Inara could feel his breath on her, warm, smelling like he'd chewed a mint leave and then downed a bourbon. It wasn't...entirely unpleasant.

"You wound me," he said. Inara found herself following Mal's hand as it trailed up his own chest, only to realize then that he didn't have a shirt on. He rested a hand on his middle where bandages covered his gunshots. "See?"

It was a too long moment of staring at the curves of his muscles, the white shining skin of old scars, before his words hit an unexpectedly sore spot. In truth, Mal had gotten himself into the trouble that put the two new bullet holes in him, but it had been to protect her.

"That's not funny, Mal."

He flashed a smile. "Not even a li'l bit?"

The corner of Inara's mouth quirked, but she tried her best to keep her face indignant. Malcolm Reynolds could never know how easily he could affect her mood. She set down her tea and eyed the counter, pretending to look for something to add to it.

She had not prepared for him to gently take her hand and flatten it against his chest. "Please accept my apology. From the depths of my heart." He grinned like a goof, but his hand trapped hers. He was running hot to the touch.

Mal watched her for a long moment, waiting for her to react.

She tried to force a smile on her face, but it was growing exceedingly difficult to think with him acting so forward. "Apology accepted," she said with a soft, whisper of a voice.

A bright smile graced his mouth. "Good. I hate havin' Companions mad at me." He released her hand to own control, but kept his ground, inches from her. He was clearly enjoying it here. "Does that by any chance mean your gonna give me a sip?" He tilted his head. "Keeping up with hot fluids are a vital part of the healing process. Doctor's orders."

Inara stared at her hand for some time, still resting against his heart. She conceded with a sigh. She turned to grab her tea cup, and only made it a few centimeters before Mal moved to block her with his body.

"You're in my way," she said.

His eyes brightened up, and he took another inch of a step. Swallowing roughly, he let out a slow sigh and leaned in. "Sure you don't like it that way?" His shoulder barely touched hers where he stood, his lips dangerous closer to her ear.

Inara felt her eyes close instinctively as his warm breath brushed her neck. "I, uh..." She'd lost all grip on reality. This wasn't happening. Malcolm Reynolds was not coming onto her. He didn't come on to anything. And now they were fatally close to having their bodies completely pressing against one another. After a moment of convincing herself that it was only to test her theory that this was all a hallucination, she reached up, gripping his arms.

"Mal, stop." Her tone was not very persuasive.

He chuckled, leaning in. His hot breath fanned out over her neck as warm lips finally made contact with a sensitive spot below her ear. She leaned her head instinctively into him, her mouth trailing open. His voice was a rumble against her skin.

"Only..." He planted a gentle kiss. She squeezed the toned muscles of his forearms, her neatly trimmed nails grazing against his skin.

"...if you really..." Another kiss. She exhaled sharply. Her head rolled to the side to give him room to press closer.

"...want me to." The final words were breathed out, and she shivered.

Finally, he lifted his head from his task and Inara's eyes drifted open. His gaze, heavy and dark, bore into hers. No longer was there innocent fun shining in them, only need. "Do you?" he asked.

Inara took a fraction of a step closer, closing the space between them. A jolt shot through her as their bodies finally touched. His question received no answer as she leaned forward without much in the way of control. She draped her arms up and around his neck. Her lips only lightly brushing against his.

She wanted more.

Mal let his hands travel to her sides and slowly work downwards till they rested on her hips. Rocking against her lightly, he pressed forward, connecting the kiss.

She didn't have an objecting bone in her body as she kissed him back. Lips parted beneath his, every thought crushed beneath the force of his mouth. Inara arched into him, breathing out a sigh. She took in the way his lips tasted. Mint and bourbon again, a touch of sweat. Mal pulled away from the kiss, teasing maybe? She suddenly felt the grip of his hands against her backside, and he lifted her up. She gripped his shoulders, her legs hooking around his waist as she was lifted and set roughly onto the countertop.

"_Lao tyen_," he said in a hoarse whisper. He trailed kisses across her cheek and back to her mouth, where she met him eagerly, her hands delving into the cool depths of his hair. She ran the back of her ankle against his lower back in slow circles, pressing his body closer.

"Oh God, Mal," she moaned quietly against his lips, silencing them both as she kissed him with hard need. In the distance, just out of reach of her will to care, the soft whistle of the tea kettle grew louder and louder in the background. Hadn't she had already taken it off the burner?

Mal spread her knees apart to stand flush against her and the counter. His lips drifted down to her neck again, tasting it, reveling in it.

Running his teeth along her burning skin, Mal finally lifted his head up to crash his lips again. His tongue meeting hers. Inara sighed into it.

" 'Nara," he moaned, gripping her waist tighter as they movement became frenzied. As clothes were tugged at. No. He hadn't moaned. He'd sounded calm. Caught up in every sensation of her new lover's body, Inara ignored the thought.

* * *

" 'Nara," Mal said again.

She'd faded off into a standing nap, dreaming on all manner of things not related to actually making tea. The kettle was screeching at her to get let off the burner.

He smiled as Inara's hand slacked and her chin slipped, jolting her awake. He held back on a laugh when she caught herself with a start. A cloud of steam enveloped her, and she swatted it away. It was less than graceful, but he enjoyed catching glimpses behind that curtain of propriety she liked to keep pulled shut.

Inara tried to get her bearings, her cheeks flushed from the steam and _only the steam_, she reminded herself. She gripped the counter as her legs struggled to regain sensation. Mal had just been propping her up against the kitchen counter, after all.

She attended to the kettle and focused on her breathing. Fantasies were nothing to be ashamed of. They were natural. But Mal was hovering now. She couldn't look at him. Not after what he'd just been doing to her in her imagination. Maybe if she kept herself busy, and her back turned to him, he wouldn't notice the flush on her face. "I must be more tired than I thought." She breathed slow, focusing on bringing her heart rate down. She took a sip of herbal tea, inhaling the smell, and tried to ignore how good bourbon and mint went together.

"Why you all red?"

Inara choked. She fought back a gag. "Just the steam," she covered, turning around the stare at the tea kettle.

Mal returned to a stack of paperwork he'd left on the table, but kept his eye on Inara. She was acting like he'd had caught her naked or something. He did a double take. And...nope she wasn't naked. The Captain, always making sure he didn't miss a beat.

"You mind passing me a cup of that?" he asked.

Inara swallowed with an uneasy nod. _He will **never** know,_ she swore silently. She took a long sip of her tea, staring awkwardly over the rim at Mal. He sat across the room, looking infuriatingly innocent in all this. That damnedable man would never let her live it down if he had a clue. She set about steeping another cup of water with the loose leaves. She slid it gently in front of Mal.

His hand trailed down to adjust the wrappings taped around his stomach. It became a habit these past couple weeks. Just something he didn't know he was doing at times. Those gunshots would make some remarkable scars. He leaned back in his chair and continued to trace the bandages as he read.

Inara stood over him, watching him read. She finished off her tea in one large gulp, and passed the cup between her hands.

Mal looked up. "You okay?"

She nodded quickly. "Yes. I'm fine. Well, I have a number of things to get done today, so I'm going to...go...now."

Mal heard her put her tea cup down too hard, and threw his feet up onto the table. He leaned back on two chair legs, watching her walk away. More like 'flee', actually.

"Might wanna see to that color before the kids get back," he said. "They might get the wrong impression of how we spent our downtime." He glanced up a lighthearted smirk.

"_Bih zway_," she muttered back at him. She shut her eyes, turning the corner down the hall towards the hold. At this moment, Inara wanted to crawl into a big hole in the ground and die, but since the hole wasn't a feasible option, she'd have to settle for her room. _Damn you, damn you, damn you…_

Mal had struck a nerve, seemed like. Back in the galley, he grabbed his tea and blew the steam off, satisfied with himself. Taking a long sip, he took in the scent of warm herbs. Under that, though, he caught a gentle hint of lychee and spice. He focused on that with a smile. He'd always liked that fragrance on her.

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**Chinese Translations:**

Lao tyen = Oh, God

Bih zway = Shut up

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Congratulations if you read on long enough to appreciate the fake smut :P

Reads and Reviews are always appreciated. More story to come! If you like my work, feel free to follow me on Tumblr .com


	2. Accommodations

**Accommodations**

With her hands straining against the floor, Inara did a push-up back into plank position. Arms shook and sweat beaded towards her eyes as she glared at the ground. At least her hair was out of her face; Inara had begun tying it back when her drills had become more intense. Simple pants and a sleeveless top had replaced her flowing ceremonial skirt. Strength training had taken the place of meditation. She braced her core tighter to hold herself steady. Twenty seconds, and then she'd switch again. Thirty more seconds, back to plank.

Inara's world had become very small.

There wasn't much floor space here in the passenger dorms. She missed her home.

Her shuttle had been stripped back down to metal grating and shipping storage. When she'd returned to _Serenity_, she'd found that the passenger rooms, with their clean sheets and painted walls, helped stave off the sensation of being trapped in a flying metal box. What few personal items Inara had managed to bring, she kept packed in a bag. It wouldn't be long till the Alliance brass began sending bounty hunters after them.

It had been three weeks since Miranda. Three weeks since they had peered over the edge of the world, and became wanted fugitives because of what they'd found. Because of what River knew.

"Keep breathing," River said, gliding easily up into their next position, _vasisthasana_. The young girl turned to prop herself with one hand, the other reaching for an outstretched leg.

Inara forced in air, mimicking the move. Her shoulders burned. "I am breathing."

"No, you're thinking. Very loudly."

They trained like this every evening. Inara had taught River the basic positions during the first week they shared the passenger hall. The girl had been curious, and Inara had enjoyed sharing her meditation exercises. Within a few days, River had usurped control out of fascination with the poses, turning it into a slow, methodical boot camp. Every day switching between strength, endurance, flexibility. Inara was exhausted, but she felt stronger, more in control of her body than she ever had before. She lowered back to plank and started on another set of push-ups.

"The erector spinae and transverse abdominal respond most efficiently to proper vertical resistance," River said.

Inara shot a hard eyes at the girl.

River smiled, blowing strands of hair out of her face. "Dip a little lower."

"How about a deal?" Inara winced as her arms twitched. She held her body straight and rigid, lowering herself inches from the floor. "You don't criticize my technique and I won't ask to brush your hair out again."

River chuffed through her nose, lifting a leg straight out. Every move she made was as elegant as a dance. "Quid pro quo won't work on the captain, either. Ten more seconds."

Somehow knowing how long there was left in the pose made Inara's body shake. She struggled to stay upright, her leg outstretched like River's. "Has Jayne been teaching you how to sass back?"

"Simon says I've always had the knack for it," River smiled, her eyes focused on the wall.

Simon Tam's little sister - the girl the Alliance had taken and turned into a weapon - was finding her way back, if only in glimpses. Unlocking the secrets in River's mind had loosened a valve somewhere. The riddles and the trances had subsided, for the most part. She was much more present now: she teased, she laughed, she danced. She acted like a petulant teenager.

"You should tell him," River said.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Inara lied.

River spun to stare up at the ceiling, her arms propped behind her. "_Gan yu meng xiang_," she laughed. "Next pose."

Inara's face flushed and her elbows almost buckled.

Mal and the crew had rescued her from the Training House when a trap had been set for them by an Alliance operative. But all that was on record for the Companions Guild was that she had fled her commissioned teaching position with no word and no notice. To everyone with power, everyone who mattered, Inara Serra had fallen in with terrorist agitators. She had committed treason.

Her guild associations had been stripped from her. Her life as a Companion was over. She had not told Mal.

Another half hour of training, and Inara's legs felt numb. She lowered herself onto River's bed, pushing aside a messy stack of papers. Analog newsprint by the look of it. "What's all this?" Inara asked, wiping the sweat from her face with a rag.

"Captain has me reading for codes."

Inara peeled a few pages off the top of the stack. Local news outlets for the next three systems they would be passing through. "What codes?"

"Misspellings, patterns, words that don't belong." River hopped up next to her and tucked her legs. "It's like a puzzle."

"It's a little archaic," Inara said, eyeing the still print and images.

River chewed her lip. "He's afraid. Alliance might try to use audio-visual stimulation as a trigger again. This is safer."

"This is a lot to read through," Inara said. She turned pages slowly in her hands. "Weather reports, trade routes, obituaries..." She paused at a full page spread in the death announcements, and her throat closed up at the sight of the name.

Serra.

Silence clung in the air between them. Her breathing trembled, and she lost her grip on the papers.

Curiously, River reached over to inspect the page. "Oren Serra," she read aloud. "Survived by one son, Feyden." The girl looked up. "You didn't know she was sick."

Inara shook her head quietly. Visions of white silk crossed her mind. A patient smile. Home.

"You didn't know where she was. She was a port in the storm, but then a ship in the night."

Her chest tightened, and she slid away on the bed. "River, please don't-"

"I'm sorry." the girl said in a rush. She pushed the papers away, flipping them over to hide the words. "I try to help, I want to understand, but it just scares people."

Inara took River's hand. "Thank you for trying," she said, her voice brittle.

When River reached out for a hug, Inara's calm cracked. She held her breath, the room going blurry at the edges as she pushed back tears.

For all River's quirks and mystifying behavior, those glimpses of the girl that she once was brought Inara hope. Just enough hope to keep her from trembling in fear of the future that lay out before them: they could be fleeing from the Alliance for the rest of their days, but she didn't regret it. They had done the right thing in helping River. For what good it had done the world.

River rested her face on Inara's bare shoulder, squeezing gently. "Is this helping?" River mumbled against her arm.

"Yes, honey," Inara breathed. "Thank you." Maybe she could let one tear fall. Just one.

"You taste like salt."

A laugh bubbled its way up at that. "Sorry," Inara managed out, wiping at her eyes with the wash rag.

"She's on Olympus," River said, reaching for the obituary and holding it out for her. "We could fit it into our path with minimal navigation adjustments, wouldn't lose much time. No Alliance ships for a ways. We'd see them coming."

Inara shook her head. "I'm not sure that it's safe to be making stops for personal visits. Not if Mal's got it in his head to go into hiding."

Inara took in a long, unsteady breath, staring at the details of Oren's obituary. The size of the notice should have been the first clue that Oren had done well for herself out here. On Sihnon, she had spent her life trying to make everyone else's lives better. She'd done the same out here, it seemed. She'd left her son a legacy.

Feyden was alone, now, she thought suddenly.

"We don't all get to say goodbye before the black," River said. She sorted the papers on her bed into multiple, nonsensical piles. "You'll feel better if you go to him. Ask the captain. Tell him what I told you."

Inara nodded vaguely, turning to the door. She would take even just a moment of time with Feyden if that's all she could convince Mal of.

"Maybe not about the daydreams, though," River said.

Inara's face burned as she turned out of the room. "_Xiao gui_."

* * *

Less than a week and _Serenity _would be docked at Way Station 262, their last stop for a long while. It was a tiny port at the furthest tip of the furthest arm of human civilization, surviving by trade and the off-hand settlers trekking out into the edges of the Black. A brave little settlement of folks with that pioneering spirit.

Mal read a small tablet on the counter as it scrolled through vids and promotional images from the cortex proxy River had rigged for him. It kept them connected but anonymous. He studied the smiling families, ready to face their brave and bold new futures in the frontier. Way Station 262 was the last sign of life before families made their way to their new homes and new lives.

It was a farce.

Only one convoy had survived terraforming and settlement on that rock. Alliance hadn't even given it a decent name to call her by. Left folks stranded at the ass-end of the 'Verse, and left them with the gift of a couple meager trading lines and a whole heap of propaganda.

He'd heard light, familiar footsteps coming up the crew hall, but didn't turn till he heard her knock. She'd been avoiding him.

"Am I interrupting?" Inara asked.

He shook his head, trying not to stare at her, all form hugging fabric and bared skin. Her face had a shine and a flush to it that made him smirk despite himself. "River's puttin' you through your paces, I see," he said. "You look downright riled."

"Oh, uh, yes." Inara ran her hands over her clothes, smoothing out the wrinkles she could find, dabbing at the sweat on her skin.

"Don't fret on it," Mal said, turning in the captain's seat. "Disheveled's a good look on you."

"I need to speak with you." She stepped onto the bridge proper. In the light, he saw it wasn't just her face that was red. Had she been crying?

He eased up from his seat. "You alright?"

"Not really, no." Inara took a long breath, holding back another cry by the look of her. She offered him one of the papers from River's investigation. "Someone very dear to me just passed."

"Sorry to hear that," he said, taking the sheet and reading the biggest obituary listed. The name gave him pause. "Family?"

Inara nodded, tugging at her hair anxiously to fix it into a knot. "The service is going to be held somewhere called Olympus. River tells me that it's near our route, and there shouldn't be any Alliance ships nearby."

"She's right," Mal said. They'd been keeping a wide berth of anything remotely related to government or military installations.

"You've planned that stop at the Cobb farm, so I'd like to request the same courtesy. We won't make it in time for the memorial, but I was hoping perhaps you could make do without me for a few days. I'd like to pay my respects to her son. I could take a shuttle and rendezvous with _Serenity _at the last way station."

Mal nodded, quietly studying the paper.

"I haven't spoken to Oren in years," Inara said quickly, "I don't think that the association would raise any red flags, despite sharing a name. She was very private."

"Inara-"

She looked up, finding the captain studying her. "And I haven't reached out to Feyden yet," she said, "I know it's probably safer to not make any unnecessary communications."

Mal gently took her shoulders, bending down to meet her eyes. "Don't have to convince me no more, darlin'. You see the nod?" Inara hadn't met him in the eye since she'd come on the bridge. It seemed to break something in her chest. Mal could see it in every careful move she made, every careful word chosen. Her breathing hitched as she struggled to keep her calm. "No need for the shuttle, neither," he said, "We'll take you the whole way. Can you make due with a couple days? It's all we can spare."

Her eyes softened. She reached up and squeezed his hand. "Thank you, Mal."

He offered a quiet smile, feeling that self-imposed barrier they'd built between each other. Right now, he wanted to step through it. He wanted to hold her, to stop that part of Inara he could tell wanted to shatter.

Mal's insides knotted up when she stepped into his arms like it was the most natural thing in the world. She tucked into his chest, arms wrapping around his middle. She was warm against him. So close. Mal rested his chin against her hair, rocking softly.

A ladder slammed open in the crew hallway, popping their quiet little bubble of privacy. With a long breath, Mal pulled away, but couldn't build up the nerve to let go of her shoulders. "Jayne and me are going dirtside with you. Nobody leaves in the ship in less than groups of three, _dong ma_?"

"Yes, sir." Her smile was a bit stronger. He returned it.

Mal had expected her to raise a fuss about taking Jayne with them, but he suspected she'd gleaned why they were leaving Zoe out of this business. His first mate had seen enough funeral rites for a while.

Inara slipped out of his hands and stole the heat from the room. Mal watched her hesitate in the doorway. "We'll make the flight change," he said. "Be there as soon as we can. I'll holler for you when we're all set."

Her eyes were warm. Tearing up a little, even. "Thank you." She wanted to say more, but instead wandered out into the hallway.

Fighting the impulse to dodge out after her, Mal blew out the tension in a big puff of air. He punched the ship-wide com, every nerve standing at attention. "Need you up on the bridge, lil' albatross."

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Chinese Translation:

Gan yu meng xiang = Dare to dream

Xiao gui = little demon (an endearment)

dong ma? = Understand?

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Thanks for reading! Please Read and Review, if you can.


	3. Diversion

**_**_Seven months before Miranda..._**_**

* * *

Mal wandered into the galley, finding Inara once again enthralling his mechanic with a conversation he couldn't cotton to.

"You mean never?" Kaylee asked, hands fidgeting with her playing cards.

Inara's smile was gentle. "I wouldn't say never, but I'd be hard pressed to think monogamy is even possible for an active companion. Especially away from guild worlds."

"Why's that?" Kaylee asked.

"What're you filling her brain up with now?" Mal said, busying himself at the counter.

Kaylee looked over her shoulder at him. "Inara doesn't think that Companions can have sweethearts."

"That is not what I said." Inara kept her eyes on the table. "Kaylee asked if companions engage in long term relationships, and I said it's rare."

"What's the fuss?" Mal asked, rounding the counter with a hard bread roll and a flask in his hand. "Find yourself stifled by commitment?"

Inara gave him a thin smile as he plopped himself down at the dining table. "The idea of being with one person at the exclusion of anyone else may antithetical to my job, but the problem is usually not with the Companion."

"How's that," he said, taking a long drink.

"I've committed myself to a vocation of intimacy," Inara said, trying her best to ignore the captain rolling his eyes. "I express love to all my clients, in one form or another. Yes, it's often physical, but it can also be emotional, or spiritual. We search for whatever glimmer of human connection we can find, and celebrate it."

Kaylee shuffled the cards in her hand. "You said you don't think a companion can have just one someone, though."

"A client is not the same as a lover," Inara answered, "Jealousy has a powerful influence on people."

"But everyone knows about companions," Kaylee said, frowning, "Even out on the Rim. Just find yourself a boy who don't care."

"People respect our vocation, but it can be difficult mixing love and commerce. To love a Companion as a romantic partner is one thing. To regularly know that your partner is involved with other people is something else."

"You get a lot of jealous types?" Kaylee asked her.

"Seems par for the course, given your clientele." Mal picked at the bread crust stuck in his teeth, grinning through his fingers. "Pickin's are slim if you're lookin' for an eligible bachelor with a liberal mind and a generous bank account."

"It's a nuanced issue," Inara said, her eyes drifting from the captain."There are also many people with certain religious beliefs-"

Mal huffed.

"Or upbringing," she corrected, smirking, "who consider monogamy a moral choice."

"It ain't?" he asked.

Inara met his gaze head on. "You think promising yourself to one person is a sign of respect. And that is a perfectly valid opinion," she said, "but you also think having multiple romantic partners is therefore immoral."

That got her a shrug. "You can bed a dozen people if you got the mind to," Mal said, "Can't love 'em all equal."

"You've called my work 'dishonest'," Inara said. "You think that trust and genuine love can't exist when a relationship isn't exclusive."

"You know my mind, all of a sudden?"

"Am I wrong?" she asked.

Mal let a silence hang in the air, ignoring the question.

"I don't volunteer every aspect of my personal life to clients," Inara continued. "If I ever chose to share my life with someone, my private thoughts are what he or she would earn from me." She took a long, quiet sip of her tea.

Mal downed the rest of his drink and hauled himself from the table.

Inara watched his now empty chair. "It's also been my experience that those who want that level of exclusivity don't know how to share."

* * *

**Notes: Thanks for all your patience with this! Felt like I should put a little something up to tide you over while I work on the next major chapter update.**


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